


Well, this sucks

by Count_Snarcula



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, Spike is hot but what else is new, Xander is annoyed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_Snarcula/pseuds/Count_Snarcula
Summary: Set during season 4. Spike and Xander swap bodies. Hilarity ensues!
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Well, this sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during season 4. Xander and Spike swap bodies. Hilarity ensues.

Xander had a long list of roommates from hell which included refined circus freaks such as Joe MacSmellyFart, Clepto-Mike and OCD George. He was no stranger to foul smells, randomly missing objects, and outbursts of anger caused by the tiniest coffee stain on the table cloth. Still, these three numbnuts seemed like Care Bears in comparison to a certain bleached vampire with a tiny chip in his head and a huge one on his shoulder, who climbed the aforementioned list faster than…well, whatever climbs fast.

Xander still couldn’t believe he got talked into allowing Spike of all peop… DEMONS(!) to stay at his tiny basement. Giles - to his credit – withstood the company of the obnoxious vampire for a couple of weeks before declaring he’d had enough of the constant chain-rattling and chain-smoking in his bathroom. Plus, he had a pretty good excuse for getting rid of his unwanted houseguest when his lady-friend came to visit. But then, Olivia left town and Xander was more than happy to dump the Billy Idol look-alike at Giles’ doorstep.

“I’m sorry Xander, but if I have to watch another episode of that mindless dribble called _Passions_ , my tired brain will leak down through my nose,” Giles pleaded while cleaning his glasses in an attempt to avoid eye-contact with the younger man.  
“What about my leaking brain?!” Xander whined, feeling he was about to lose the battle of Who Gets the Vamp. “He keeps me up at night, he takes my stuff, and now that he knows he can kill demons without his head imploding, my bathroom is covered in all sorts of demony muck! I mean, I don’t even wanna know what part of what demon that stuff came out of and… and, remind me, why can’t we stake him again?”

Giles patted him on the shoulder in what seemed to be a gesture of consolation, only to sneakily direct him towards the door.  
“It’s only a matter of time before Spike finds his own place to live.” The Englishmanused that deceivingly gentle tone of his, practically escorting Xander out of his living room. “I’m sure this arrangement isn’t comfortable for him either.“  
“But-”  
“Now, off you go, I have some work to do.”  
Before Xander found the words to retort, Giles ushered him out, closing the door behind him.  
 _Crap_ , Xander thought, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

But maybe Giles was right? Spike could now defend himself against whatever monsters the Hellmouth spewed out, so there was no reason for him to prolong his very much unwelcomed stay. Even with the soldier boys on his tail, Spike would probably manage to find a nice, comfy rathole to hide in. Plus, the heatwave that recently hit Sunnydale might be the decisive factor in driving the vamp out of the stuffy basement that Xander called his home.

Slightly uplifted by that thought, Xander admired the sunset as he strolled back home, hoping to find his hellish roommate gone – preferably forever and ever. 

No such luck. As soon as Xander opened the door to his basement-turned-apartment, his face fell, along with every other body part that had temporarily rejoiced in the possibility of Spike not being there. There he was – the blond menace – splayed shirtless on the leather recliner, his eyes glued to the small tv screen, a half empty beer bottle dangling between his fingers. And there was his girlfriend, perched on the edge of the sofa, staring the vampire’s prominent abs.   
“What the hell?”

Neither even bothered to look up.  
“How was work honey,” Anya asked absentmindedly, still engrossed in ogling the vamp.   
“It’s Sunday!” Xander’s patience was non-existent at that point. He turned his attention to the bloodsucker. “What’s with all the shirtlessness?” He gestured vaguely at Spike’s unclad upper body. “Don’t you have demons to kill? Havocs to wreak? Slayers to annoy?”  
“Too hot,” was all Spike said, then took a long swig from the bottle, giving Anya a nice view of his biceps.  
“You’re a vampire! Vampires don’t get hot!”  
“I beg to differ,” Anya muttered.  
“Anya!”

Spike smirked, but his eyes remained focused on the screen. That bastard knew what he was doing. Xander felt an incoming headache – though, he had to admit, he walked straight into that one. Oblivious to her boyfriend’s increasing irritation, the former vengeance demon glanced at her watch and hastily got up.   
“I gotta go!” She announced cheerfully, kissing Xander on the cheek on her way out. “Girls’ night out with Hallie. Play nice boys.”

With Anya gone, there went Xander’s only hope for a steamy make-out session with his hot girlfriend – the one thing he was looking forward to in an otherwise lousy day. Slouching into the sofa, he glanced at the screen and let out a long sigh.  
"Let me guess, _Passions_?"  
“They're airing a marathon of the series today. Timmy’s in a coma now. Stupid twat fell into a well.”

Xander buried his face in his hands, a picture of pure misery. If the heat didn’t melt his brain, Spike’s dumb soap opera certainly would.

* * *

After five episodes of the dumbest show ever made – which included three affairs, two divorces, one miracle recovery, and the return of an evil twin sister – Xander and Spike decided to call it a night.

Xander was too tired to even bother tying the vampire up, trusting the chip to do its thing if Spike suddenly got a craving for a late night arterial snack. Spike, in turn, wasn’t in the mood to taunt his host… much, apart from reminding him that any suspicious rustling under the covers would be picked up on and subsequently mocked. Damn that super-vampiric hearing. Xander dreamed of stakes and vampire dust that night. 

The next morning, Xander woke up feeling a bit out of place. Literally. Instead of lying in his bed, for some reason he was occupying Spike’s recliner.

 _That’s weird_ , he thought, as the morning fogginess started to clear. Yawning, he noticed his nails were covered in black polish. Did Spike play some sort of prank on him while he was asleep? _Where is Captain Peroxide anyway?_

Standing up, he did a double take when he noticed a still form lying in his bed. The figure was wearing his white beater, his boxer shorts and, on closer inspection, his face! Xander’s brain went into overdrive. Was he having an out-of-body experience? Was he dead? Did Spike kill him in his sleep?! Was he a ghost?!!  
“AAAAAAA!!!” The scream came out before his brain even registered how panicked he was, or how strange his voice sounded.

Xander watched his doppelganger jerk awake and look around the room frantically, a pair of familiar brown eyes darting back and forth. He finally turned in Xander’s direction, pupils widening in shock.   
“Bloody hell!”

Xander felt a panic attack was in order, expecting the usual hyperventilation and heart-pounding to kick in at any given moment. And yet, his breaths remained even, if a bit shallow, and when he placed his hand on his chest – or rather, placed _a_ hand on _a_ chest - he discovered that the good ol’ ticker wasn’t doing any ticking.   
“Oh no. Oh god NO! No no no nononono…”

Xander bolted to the bathroom and almost threw himself at the mirror cabinet. The evident lack of reflection, followed by a quick inspection of his sharp facial features only confirmed his suspicions – he was in Spike’s body.  
 _Ugh, that came out wrong_.

Both fascinated and repulsed by the odd phenomenon, Xander flailed his hands in front of the cabinet as if to wish his reflection back. For a split second, he felt relief when he saw his own face appear in the mirror, only to realize it was in fact Spike, occupying his body, who leaned against the doorframe behind him, arms crossed, giving him his signature unimpressed-glare-raised-eyebrow combo.  
“Did you really think that was going to work?”

Ignoring the comment and the weirdness of hearing his own voice echoing Spike’s distinctive British drawl, Xander spun around, full panic mode.  
“I’m dead! And a vampire! I’m a dead vampire!”  
“Undead, technically…”  
“Shut up! You- you did this to me!”  
“You’re out of your bird! You think I bloody did this? Clearly, I got the short end of the stick here, being stuck in that sodding sack of meat you call a body!”  
“Hey, watch it pal, I’m sturdy yet soft and huggable.”

Spike rolled his eyes, then tilted his head, focusing his gaze on Xander.  
“What are you staring at?!” Xander asked irritated.   
“Me,” Spike answered with a ring of pride in his voice. “It’s been a while since I got a good look at myself, and I have to say, I’m quite the looker.”  
“And just like that, I miss the simpler times when I had syphilis.” Xander muttered as he pushed past… himself? Confusing, all of it.

He genuinely preferred getting struck by an ancient STD-inducing curse than suffering the switcheroo nightmare starring the insufferable vampire in the role of Xander Harris. He slumped on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his-but-not-really-his nose.  
“Well, this sucks.”

**Author's Note:**

> T.B.C.


End file.
